


Mistletoe and Parlour Games

by Laurielove



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Kissing, Mistletoe, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 01:18:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17152601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurielove/pseuds/Laurielove
Summary: What better way to spend time on Christmas Day than playing hide and seek? But who will find Victoria? And where?A one-shot Christmas gift for the Vicbourne fans, written for the 2018 Vicbourne Advent Calendar on the For the Love of Vicbourne Facebook page.





	Mistletoe and Parlour Games

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on Christmas Day and it's my way of saying thank you to all you lovely readers and Vicbourners who've supported both me and the fandom as a whole over the last year. Here's wishing you all the happiest of holiday times and a 2019 filled with as much of what you'd wish it to be filled with as possible. Love from me. xxx

‘The decorations are looking most festive and heartening this year, Ma’am. May I commend you.’

William Lamb studied the garlands in the drawing room while looking up from his newspaper.

‘Thank you, Lord M,’ replied the Queen, who was sitting across from him, her embroidery only half attended to in her lap. ‘My mother had some notion of placing trees all around, something they do in Germany. What do you make of that?’

He quirked his eyebrows briefly. ‘It seems rather excessive, Ma’am. What was your response?’

‘I said no. What a strange idea it is.’

‘I concur. I doubt it will catch on, Ma’am.’

‘You are right, I’m sure.’  

Emma Portman and Harriet Sutherland concentrated on their own embroidery.

‘I heard the staff talking about the decorations below stairs,’ continued Victoria. ‘They were mentioning mistletoe.’

‘Mistletoe, Ma’am?’ asked Emma.

‘Yes, and indeed they were bearing armfuls of it in across the yard the other day.’

‘Oh, that is an old tradition, Ma’am,’ said Harriet Sutherland.

The Queen turned to her Lady. ‘And what is the tradition?’

‘The servants hang it below stairs in certain places.’

‘What places would those be?’

‘In doorways, alcoves, the like.’

‘Why not across mantels?’

Harriet gave a little smile. ‘Because the mistletoe needs to be placed high above those places to serve its purpose.’

‘Oh? What is that? Do you know of this Lord M?’

Melbourne studied his newspaper intently. ‘I recall vaguely, Ma’am.’

‘Well? What is this purpose?’

Harriet continued, ‘They say that if you do not do a particular thing under the mistletoe at Christmas then bad luck with befall you.’

‘What is it you have to do?’ She looked at Lord M again. He scrutinised the newspaper so intently that she feared his gaze would bore a hole through it.

‘Well, Ma’am … whoever happens to meet under the mistletoe, whichever man and whichever woman … they must kiss,’ explained Harriet.

Victoria’s eyes widened. ‘Kiss?’

‘Indeed. Otherwise there will be no end of bad luck for all.’

‘Any man and any woman? If they happen to simply pass through the doorway at the same time and mistletoe is above them, they must … kiss?’

‘That is right.’

‘Oh! I see.’ Victoria could certainly not concentrate on her embroidery now.

‘It is only a tradition done by the servants, Ma’am. I cannot envisage mistletoe hanging from the doorways of the state rooms,’ added Emma.

‘No, I don’t imagine Lehzen would allow it. But … it sounds rather charming, do you not think?’

Her ladies smiled at her sweetly. She turned to Lord M. He was still focused only on the paper.

‘Lord M?’

‘Hmm? Ma’am?’ He lifted a seemingly distracted gaze.

‘What do you make of this tradition?’

‘Which?’

She found herself blushing at saying the word aloud to him. ‘Of … kissing … under the mistletoe.’

He cocked a disinterested eyebrow. ‘The servants can amuse themselves how they wish, Ma’am.’

‘But apparently it gives bad luck if you do not do it.’

‘Well then, let us hope none of us ever find ourselves under any!’ With that he stood and bowed to the Queen. ‘I must return to the House, Ma’am. A debate gets underway shortly at which I’m expected.’

‘Oh … will you return for dinner?’ Victoria stood too and moved towards him as he crossed to the door.

‘Not tonight, Ma’am. I’m dining with the First Lord of the Treasury at the Reform Club.’

‘Ah.’ The disappointment hit her hard.

He seemed to sense it as he took a step in and said gently, ‘It will be most tedious. I would much prefer to be here, Ma’am.’

She turned her face up to his. ‘Would you, Lord M?’

At first he said nothing but offered her the sincerity of his expression, then confirmed warmly, ‘You know I would, Ma’am.’

She smiled and struggled not to reach over and take his hands there and then, but she could feel the eyes of the others upon them.

‘I will call first thing in the morning, Ma’am.’

‘Very well, Lord M. Until then.’

He bowed again, but his eyes did not leave hers. ‘Until then, Ma’am.’

\--xoOox--

A week passed, and business proceeded much the same as always in Westminster and Buckingham House. Parliament recessed for Christmas and Melbourne considered where he would be most welcome over the festive period. As he finished business with the Queen on the 20th December, he dared say to her, ‘Ma’am … my sister is wondering if I shall be at dinner at Brocket Hall for Christmas Day.’

‘Oh, Lord M!’ The Queen stood immediately, a look of abject horror on her face. It made the ever-present glow in his company burn fiercely. ‘But you must be here!’

‘Must I, Ma’am? Surely you don’t wish to spend Christmas time with the Prime Minister?’

She took a step towards him, panic stricken nearly, and wrung her hands together desperately. ‘I would not consider it to be with the Prime Minister, but … with a dear friend, with a companion, with … _you_.’

‘I believe my sister was expecting me, Ma’am.’ He rather enjoyed this little dance of expectation.

‘But I must have you here! I do not think I can endure Christmas without you.’ She looked up at him and it took all his resolve not to reach up and stroke away the redness of her cheeks and soothe her anxiety. He kept his hands clasped tightly before him to prevent it.

‘Well … if you insist, Ma’am,’ he smiled. ‘My sister has endured me for her lifetime, after all. I am certain she will survive one Christmas apart.’

‘So you will be here?’

‘Of course, Ma’am.’ He inclined his head decorously but not excessively.

Victoria’s face broke into the broadest smile and it was as if the clouds had parted and the sun emerged.

‘Good! It is the only way it could be, after all.’

_The only way …_

\--xoOox--

And so Christmas Day arrived. Melbourne stayed at Buckingham House on Christmas Eve and planned to stay another night.

The Queen attended church at St Margaret’s, Westminster that morning and Her Majesty greeted the crowds warmly as she left. He thought her most radiant. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold and her eyes shone so brightly that he considered the brightest sapphires would be dull in comparison.

They returned to the most glorious feast of goose and ham and the most spectacular plum pudding the kitchens could produce.

But Melbourne did not over-indulge. His appetite was not extensive for he was distracted. The woman who sat opposite him was laughing and smiling and looking across at him so that it made him almost dizzy with happiness.

After lunch the gathering (not many, ten or so) retired to a drawing room where they talked and played cards and sang carols. He had more Claret, which relaxed and warmed him, but he was careful not to allow his mind to become clouded. The Queen perhaps had enjoyed more wine at luncheon than was usual, although it did little more than make her laughter peal more brilliantly and make her face glow with happiness. He could not take his eyes from her.

Her mother fell asleep, as did her Uncle Sussex. Her ladies were still alert and they had all but exhausted card games.

‘We should play something else,’ suggested Harriet Sutherland.

‘I agree!’ declared the Queen. ‘It is only 6 o’clock. We have all evening to amuse ourselves. It is Christmas after all. Lord M, do you have a game to suggest?’

‘I was always fond of Bagatelle, Ma’am, but I do not believe you have a table here.’

‘I don’t, but I shall ensure we have one for next time.’

‘Charades?’ said Emma Portman.

‘Oh no, I am quite hopeless at that,’ replied Victoria. Lord M was a little disappointed. The thought of Her Majesty performing was rather appealing.

‘What about hide and seek?’ suggested the Queen, her eyes alight at her idea.

‘Hide and seek, Ma’am? In the Palace?’ responded Melbourne. ‘We could be searching for you for a whole year; I’m not entirely sure your subjects would appreciate an absent monarch.’

‘Well, let us say not to hide above this floor. I used to play it at Kensington sometimes – I used to hide from Sir John and he would try and find me. Well, it wasn’t exactly a game as such; I was always hiding from Sir John.’

Emma and Harriet looked enthused, and he supposed it would not take a huge effort on his part. And it was good to see Victoria so happy. She was beaming and so was he, but he kept it inside.

‘Anything you say, Ma’am,’ he said and pushed himself to his feet.

Victoria was flush with girlish glee and almost clapped her hands together in delight. ‘I shall hide first! You must all count to one hundred.’

With that, she picked up her skirts and rushed off. Something warm inside him stirred at the sight of it.

They duly counted to one hundred. Well, Emma and Harriet did, Melbourne finished his glass of Claret.

The Ladies grinned after they reached a hundred and set off. Melbourne gave a resigned sigh, but had to acknowledge that the prospect of searching for his Queen in the nooks and crannies of Buckingham Palace was not an entirely displeasing one. He let Emma and Harriet set off, watching them as they scuttled off to the state rooms, then decided how to proceed.

Victoria was no fool; she would not hide anywhere obvious. He set off down the smaller corridors and searched in alcoves and studies. There was no sign of her anywhere. After ten minutes of searching the novelty began to wear off. He could do with a brandy. He frequently bumped into Emma and Harriet; they had had no luck either and set off again, retracing their steps.

Melbourne stood, considering whether he should simply go back where he started and sit and read, but then he noticed a door ajar along a corridor leading to the servants’ stairs.

The staff would never leave it open. His mouth ticked at the corner. She was a clever thing – it hadn’t occurred to any of them to search below stairs. And daring too. The staff would be aghast to find the Queen in their area.

He moved to the door and opened it further, ensuring nobody was around before slipping down the stairs. The staff had mostly been dismissed for the night and were in their rooms on the top floor enjoying their own Christmas time. The dark passages were largely deserted. Melbourne managed to go undetected. He searched in pantries and kitchens, nothing, but he was sure she had come down here.

At the end of one corridor another small passageway led off to the right. He tiptoed down it, barely able to see in the gloom, and came to a door which was slightly ajar – a store cupboard of some such. He peered in – folded linen was laden onto the shelves lining the wall. It seemed too crammed to have a person in it, but as he pushed the door slightly, he heard a rustling. Melbourne hesitated and felt his heart pounding. Was it that exciting? He allowed himself a smirk. Perhaps it was. Why not enjoy it while he could?

He pushed the door open enough to slip into the tiny room. At first it was too gloomy to make anything out, but as he inhaled he knew she was there – that gloriously familiar scent of honeysuckle and citrus filled his senses and a jolt of pleasure took him. And then he heard the faintest little gasp as she tried to contain her surprise. He turned, and there, squeezed into a dark corner, was Victoria.

For a time they simply looked at each other, but then he said, his voice low, ‘I appear to have found you, Ma’am.’

‘Indeed you have Lord M, and I am glad it is you.’

‘You certainly made it difficult, Ma’am. I’ve had the devil’s own job searching you out.’

‘Well … I wouldn’t want to make it easy for you, Lord M.’

He sniffed out a laugh. ‘You most certainly haven’t. You’re a very naughty thing coming down here. If we were caught, it would be frowned upon by every single person in the palace, from your mother right down to the scullery maids. We should respect their domain.’

‘Fiddlesticks! Nobody has seen me, unless you have been less discreet than me?’ she asked teasingly.

‘Not at all, Ma’am. I am the height of discretion.’

‘Oh, I know you are, Lord M.’

He glanced around. ‘Well … I suppose we should venture back up.’

‘Oh, must we?’

She asked it in such a way that he had to look away from her. But at that moment she stepped in and turned her perfect soft face up to him. ‘It’s so very quiet and still down here. Nobody knows we’re here.’

Oh, he could reach down now and gather her to him. He could hold her and take her and adore her. There, in the quiet, enfolding solitude, she could be his.

_But he must not._

‘Ma’am …’ he warned and took a step backwards, moving to the doorway. ‘We really must return.’

‘But Lord M,’ she said, ‘we cannot, not yet.’

He frowned in bewilderment.

She continued. ‘Look above you.’

He turned his head up. There, attached to the door frame, was a sprig of mistletoe. Her audacity was quite shocking, but entirely enthralling as well.

He looked down at her with the slightest sigh but moved no further away.

‘You wouldn’t want to bring bad luck on us, would you?’ she continued.

‘Those are foolish superstitions, Ma’am.’

‘Nevertheless …’ She took a step closer and placed a hand softly on the rise of his chest. He sucked in in blissful surprise. ‘It is not worth the risk.’

Melbourne swallowed. His conviction was fast evaporating. He could feel her hand on him, warm, even through his clothing. His deep breaths could not stop his whole being swimming with desire. He looked down at her, her pale face so beautiful in the moonlight which crept in through a slit of a window high up.

Reason was gone. He reached up and stroked down her cheek. Touch. At last, touching that soft skin he had so longed for. His thumb ran over her bottom lip and made her gasp. Her lips fell open a little.

‘No … not worth the risk,’ he murmured.

And he brought his other hand up to hold her perfectly for him, and, there under the mistletoe, he kissed her.

At the first touch of her lips he felt such a rush of happiness he could have cried out. As it was, it was she who did, a soft little cry which he caught in his mouth. He pressed his mouth against her and felt the soft pliancy of her lips give under him and then she took and pressed back. Victoria moved her mouth a little and he responded. She was brazen and his hesitation melted. Oh, she tasted so perfectly sweet.

He moved her so that her back was to the wall and kissed her yet harder.

They broke away – in surprise at their mutual conviction, perhaps – but did not pull back. Melbourne held her and looked into her, his gaze penetrating into her as if trying to make sense of it all.

But she gripped onto him and soon pulled him down to her again. ‘Don’t stop, my darling, don’t stop.’

It was all he needed. Again, he lowered himself and kissed her. She opened and her body trembled under him. He dared slip his tongue in and met hers. Far from being put off she responded hungrily, and he pressed himself harder still against her. She gasped – a soft, wondrous gasp – and met him.

And just when desire could have overwhelmed him, just when he could have forgotten his position, forgotten hers, and they could both have acted merely as man and woman, there was a distant noise. They froze, still wrapped around each other but paralysed by shock. Down the corridor somewhere, a door opened.

Victoria’s eyes widened and, even in his fear, he wanted to kiss her again; she was so perfectly glorious. He lifted a finger to his lips to keep her quiet and she let the slightest grin take her. With his foot, he reached behind and pushed the door shut as much as possible.

Someone was whistling down the corridor and the whistling was getting closer.

They could barely breathe, let alone move. Staring hard into each other, every sense was attuned to the proximity of the person, to the danger of discovery. Melbourne kept his finger to his lips but his other hand was still around her waist. Hers clutched hold of him.

The footsteps were getting closer. He began to concoct reasons why it would be perfectly reasonable for the Prime Minister to be found in the closest proximity to the Queen below stairs in a dark closet on Christmas Day. None of them were particularly convincing, he admitted.

The man in the corridor was nearly at their door. His whistling stopped.

This would be it. His excuse of wanting to show a curious Queen how to work an iron seemed the best option.

Victoria was now biting her lip and her little brows were wrinkled in horror.

But then, just as they expected the door to be flung open, the man outside muttered to himself about something being ‘bloody late’ and ‘pointless’ (Melbourne later told her Majesty that the word before pointless was ‘fudging’) and he turned and retreated down the corridor. They waited, still fearful to even breathe, until they could hear only silence yet again.

And then, as if they had held their breaths for hours, they exhaled and let out laughs of relief. He rested his head on her forehead.

‘Ma’am … that was too close for comfort.’

She smiled softly. ‘But what went before was very comfortable indeed.’

‘Yes,’ he could only agree and softly kissed her again. ‘But … we must return. I should imagine even Harriet and Emma will be anxious by now. As you yourself said … it is not worth the risk.’

She sighed. ‘You are right as always.’

Melbourne opened the door cautiously and, after gauging that the passage really was deserted, took her by the hand and began to lead her out.

‘Lord M,’ she said, pausing.

He turned back. ‘Ma’am?’

‘Thank you.’

‘Well, like you said, Ma’am …’ He glanced above him at the mistletoe. ‘I would not have wanted to be responsible for any bad luck befalling you.’

She smiled. ‘We’re under it again.’

‘In that case …’ He bent and planted a final soft kiss on her lips.

‘Happy Christmas, Lord M,’ she whispered as they at last parted.

‘Happy Christmas, Ma’am.’

**Author's Note:**

> Christmassy thoughts (and any others) loved as always. 
> 
> xx


End file.
